To the BATMOBILE |
Saturday, January 29, 2005
the sun rides high in the endless plains of singapore. empty shutters rattle in the dry breeze as fearful faces gaze from behind broken window glass. the clock strikes noon and the horses neigh in response. a dark figure strides into town, spurs aclinking, face covered by a widebrimmed hat, pistols ever-ready. he looks up, exposing a familiar face, and cries out a challenge- HELLLLLOOOOOOOOOO???? and as per usual, most of my desperate pleas for a MSN conversation get taken care off by a simple, sure-fire shot to the head. the "away" sign comes on. 1 year ago, i had people actually WANT to talk to me. (i pause now as i rush off as Saints just scored against Portsmouth in FA Cup! YEAAAAAAAAAAAH COMON MATTHEW OAKLEY. however, just as each passing moment of ecstacy in my life, it is quickly shattered by the reality of life. one minute after we score, we concede a penalty. 1-1 currently. FUCK) sigh. as the defender of supreme justice and guardian of the bustling city of siglap+katong, butlerman cannot do himself shame by resorting to naming... names. but - butlerman still wants to drive his 2nd-hand batmobile off the nearest cliff (nono, not bukit timah... nearest tall cliff would be.......... ah damn it. ill just stand on the Changi airport runway and let some SQ boeing 747/airbus run me down). i would have loved to posted this article earlier than today, such as maybe december when people actually -read- my rantings. however. the urban legend about butlerman and his beau was rampant and to be honest, slightly true (if not very one-sided). nowadays i've more or less given up, having gathered enough (not so)subtle hints that i'm not particularly pleasant company or less pleasant than others, what could i do. (alot more apparently) but i gave up. another stupid thing i've done. just to humiliate myself for everybody's pleasure, i'll give another stupid example - IM STILL WAITING for her/anyone without a Y chromosome to start a conversation. for all those who don't take bio/don't know/don't go to school, that means a female. (i had to ask to make sure. heh) sigh. today i had a brief (mis)adventure at NYGH, having met nobody i wanted to meet, and everyone i didn't want to. i'm desperate. if i told you how desperate i was, i'd have to kill you. and myself to get rid of the pain. what was so different from me 1 year ago that nobody wants to talk to me anymore? it appears i won't find out. cause nobody tells me. which goes back to the point WHY WON'T ANYBODY TALK TO ME. sigh. before i wallow in my self-pity and drown to death in it, i shall stop. "STOP! hammer time! da-na-na-na, na-na, na-na, can't touch that". another seemingly few and far between episode of butlerman. which hurt so much to write. so the one person who reads it better treasure it! (you bastard you) a last minute update on Saints V Pompey = 2-1. yay. to saints! to a better social life! (a plea) to people to start talking! TO THE BATMOBILE |
The Writer
highly confidential Martin Butler, or affectionally known to others as "Butler", "Butlerman", or just "Butt". -Most eligible bachelor of 2004-every year henceforth - step aside Mr.Clooney -Doesn't particularly enjoy much anymore having been desensitized as part of a cruel torturous regime a.k.a IB... -Dislikes everything he doesn't like... Nov 8th - Remember the date! MSN - butlerwantsu@hotmail.com (Add with caution) Archives
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Under permanent state of reconstruction - you may start by asking me to link you If I have forgotten anybody (or maybe I just don't know enough people...), let me know Blogger Yahoo! MSN Photobucket the Garage cum Batforum
a tense atmosphere of hot air, greasy stains and the endless grumbles of the engine - and that's only me |
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